Not a Perfect World, But Might As Well Be
by Mintwafflez
Summary: Castiel is learning how to function in all these new situations. Sam has no issues helping him through them, one lesson at a time. - Sam/Cas, fluff.


**Not a Perfect World But Might As Well Be**

A story I wrote for Sastiel Week's blind exchange on tumblr as my gift for Vessellated. The prompts were so lovely, if I had more time I would have done one of the others (maybe I still will!). Done for the second prompt: "**Prompt 2**: Some gratuitous and slightly awkward cuddling; doesn't need to be particularly sweet (hurt/comfort is a'okay if you wanna go there) and it's entirely up to you if you'd like said cuddling to evolve into anything sexual. Size difference is always a bonus."

* * *

The room was warm with southern air and even with the motel door cracked (and barred, between jamb and the table chair), and there was little escape short of simply frying your brains out. The small air conditioning unit was still chugging along, jerry rigged by a screw driver in the side after Dean got pissed enough to attack it before they headed out for their hunt. The fans inside turned reluctantly, only pulsating lightly despite the eldest Winchester's best efforts to give it some more juice. It most likely would have been more effective if someone hadn't plunked down one somber angel directly in front of it, the cold air chilling the sweat clinging to his neck and soaking into the collar of his trench coat, but Sam couldn't move Castiel any time soon unless he was lacking some clothing first.

They were alone actually, baking in the motel oven while Dean scrambled around to find a convince store that actually sold water bottles by the 24 pack (anything short of that many and it would just be mutiny between them). Castiel had been stuck doing his angel thing for a long while, but by the slight twitch of his eyes and his almost carefully regulated breathing, Sam had guessed he had checked back in some time ago. The demon-blood boy shifted, curling his bare toes into the crusty carpeting.

"Are you sure you really don't want to take some layers off, Cas? I'm sure we could find you something lighter, Dean's clothes fit you good." He had his best intentions in offering as he wasn't sure he knew the certified procedure for tending to an angel suffering from heat stroke. Castiel practically sighed and Sam had to bite back a face – he was now _his_ angel in a sense of the term, and he felt obligated to take care of him every step of the way even if he was mother henning. Just sometimes, his oddities and misunderstandings of the real world created them a disconnect.

"It's warm, but I am comfortable," the celestial being states simply, punctuating slowly as if it would aid his horrible lying. The younger Winchester full out frowns, knitting his brows but nodding in some form acceptance. Who was he to tell God's servant when he was comfortable and when was not, no matter the amount of wiggling and loosening he was attempting to do to his cuffs currently.

"Not like I haven't seen you undressed before, Cas." He offers softly, upturning the last syllables of his words as If to try and make it more tempting. It was true, as he had a few times recently. They had started slow, just small curious and learning touches that had evolved like any other relationship – however at the moment, his angel had seemed to forget about all that. "Just so you're aware."

"If I let you 'take care' of me, would you be happier then, Sam?" he gives in reluctantly after a bit, impatience beating out centuries of expressionless practice. It's kind of funny how a lot of his negative faces are almost complete mimics of Dean's, making it so much easier for him to be indifferent to them.

"I'd be less concerned about your vessel turning on you, yeah," he confirms with a soft nod. "Just strip down a bit and we'll be good. Trust me here." Sam gestures to himself for example, down to his thread bare jeans and an old wife beater of his brother's.

There's an reluctance in Cas' nod, but he's well aware if the angel didn't have a fondness for him, his stance wouldn't have changed. Lately, he's been feeling a bit guilty treating him more like a baby than a large celestial power more than capable of handling him himself, but it's too late for that to be changing now with his grace trickling down.

He drops the trench coat first into a cream pool beside the chair leg, unbuttoning his dress shirt with deliberate motions. The heat is making him cranky, Sam observes, hesitating momentarily before reaching over and undoing the last two for him. Cas spares him a brief look before dropping his pants too as he shrugs off his under shirt, and suddenly Sam feels no need to offer him a change in clothing further more.

"Better?" the hunter prompts, sitting down on the edge ofthe bed. There's a strong reluctance again but the angel nods, still standing a bit dumbly in front of the air conditioning unit. Sam pats the bed, the glossy threads actually sort of cool to the touch in the roaring heat. "Dean'll be gone for a while yet, and I'll suppose you're not heading out like that?"

"No, I don't plan on it," he agrees, parting his lips softly before seating beside him. He sighs before sagging over, dropping his head against Sam's sticky shoulder. "This heat is making me irritable, I don't see why we have to be here." He pauses briefly. "I don't see why _I_ have to be here."

"Where else would you be right now?" Sam hums a short note of 'uhm', glancing over to him. Castiel has been vital to them lately, a vast pool of knowledge Dean can't help but endlessly tap into, and a giant library Sam wants to uncover, layer by layer. He's positive he's been enjoying himself though at least, smiling thinly at Dean's jokes even when he doesn't get them, and inquiring the mechanics of a good relationships to waitresses when his back is turned.

It's unspoken of how he often says around on his own will, not because he was asked.

"Hell would be nice," he quips, snark directly taken up from his Winchester boys and Sam smiles softly, dimpling at the corners. He doesn't mind he's playing a joke with such a touchy subject for all of them, as it would only ruin their carefully sculpted moment. Cas sighs in mild frustration, his warm breath tickling the other's bare arm.

"Come on, the quilts are cool," the younger observes, wrapping an arm around the angel before pulling them both backwards to lay on the bed. It is true, the synthetic fibers not the slightest warm yet, and a soft sigh escapes as Cas' bare back touches to it. The heat makes their skin tacky where it brushes together, but Sam just eases him against the curve of his hip better, his smaller frame nestling easily beside his.

"If my grace was in a better state, this wouldn't be an issue," Castiel confides into Sam's ribs, his chapped lips tickling the scratchy white fabric of his shirt. Carefully, he threads his fingers into Sam's, thumb around forefinger and the rest all splayed, but it's a good attempt on his part with their positions. He squeezes back against his thinner, softer plam.

"I think it's kind of interesting watching you adjust to all these new situations, and I'm always more than willing to help," he responds truthfully, shrugging his free shoulder enough to lift off of the bed. Cas' blue gaze softens as it catches onto his. "If that's what you want. Isn't that what 'us' is all about?"

The Winchester's sentiment eases the ache the slightest, as he really knows it to be true. That was Sam's quality – compassion and the overwhelming desire to always help. He sighs again, a nasty habit by now, pushing himself up and onto the hunter's chest. Sweat makes them chafe together between skin and cloth, but faintly he can hear Sam's breathing, and he murmurs something of soft agreement finally.

The air conditioner hiccups beyond them, buzzing loudly before settling into a slightly more sporadic rhythm. Cas' elbow is tucked between them, a pressure on Sam's abdomen, but neither really seems too bothered. Sam's endured worse, and well, Cas is still too much limbs and not enough body when they interact. The hunter arches enough to kiss the top of his angel's head, his hair just barely tickling his chin, wildly mussed.

"Is the heat less taxing when one is asleep?" Cas asks after a bit, voice full of sincere inquiry. His free hand his splayed over Sam's heart, his expression innocent with his usual grace.

"If you can get comfortable enough to sleep in the first place, yeah," he confirms softly, willing to always answer. He props himself up, adjusting him instead to the crook of his arm as he reaches over to flip the pillows to the cool side. Castiel drifts easily to his new position, perfect almost anywhere against Sam's engulfing frame, even if he's a bit too stiff against his muscled arm.

He reaches up, tracing the curve of the hunter's jaw with a thumb, covering a pock mark briefly. It takes a bit, the heat and moisture of their bodies ruining their perfect spot on the covers, but he's nodding softly once Sam has found his new position. "I think I would enjoy that then."

Sam smiles, wrapping an arm around his hips where the fabric of his briefs keeps them from sticking together, drawing him close. Cas' hand is dangling openly over his own chest, lost between all the movement and Sam carefully twines their fingers again properly, dragging his thumb over his.

"Sure, we'll study it in depth then."


End file.
